


Break a Leg

by Ahmerst



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, Phone Sex, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-20 22:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3667584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahmerst/pseuds/Ahmerst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being able to sway others with your voice is great, at least until it goes from saving your ass to making a complete fool out of you in front of someone who’s totally smoking hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

An immutable fact of working in the food service industry was that you’d always get an order at least five minutes before your shift ended. For Aoba, it was two minutes and thirteen seconds. He knew the exact time because he was watching the second hand of the clock above his station tick by when his headset beeped with the notification that a car had pulled up.

“What can I get for this this fine and wonderful evening?” Aoba asked, concentrating more on not crossing his eyes in frustration than forcing a chipper done.

He punched in the order without listening, letting the words enter one ear and leave the other, one eye still on the clock as he rattled off the total and asked the customer to pull around to the second window. Money changed hands without a hitch, and Aoba packed the to-go back with the zombie like motions of having done it too many times.

“Here you are, sir,” Aoba said as he leaned out the window to hand over the meal. “Your mushroom burger and fries. One large iced tea.”

His eyes flickered up to the clock as he pulled back. Sixteen seconds over his shift.

“I believe this is the incorrect order,” the customer said.

“You─ you what?” Aoba asked distractedly. Twenty seconds now. 

“Didn’t order this,” the customer repeated.

Aoba’s tongue flicked over his upper teeth in irritation. Of fucking course he’d goof the last order of his shift. The mix up was probably negligible, he figured. Pickles when there shouldn’t have been, a side of ranch instead of barbeque.

He debated doing the right thing, looked one last time on the clock, and decided doing the right thing was not for people who didn’t want to miss their train home. People who didn’t have the finely tuned and possibly evil ability of sweet talking their way out of their problems. No, evil was too strong of a word. 

Easily abused, that was it. And what good was a talent if you didn’t milk it for what is was worth?

“I’m so, _so_ sorry, sir,” Aoba started, his voice dropping, the tone smooth. “I understand that you may have misspoken when you ordered, but I’m sure if you think about it, it won’t be a problem.”

Okay, using his talent for pinning blame on the customer was totally evil. 

Aoba sensed the hesitation, the dumbfounded air that always permeated the atmosphere when he spoke like this. Whatever ‘this’ was. Some kind of modern day siren nonsense that even Aoba didn’t get. It wasn’t like he could google it. What would he even search?

Why do people get a boner over my voice? How do I know if my vocal chords are the result of a secret government experiment? At what point is mind control illegal?

Deciding he didn’t want to end up on a government watch list, Aoba never looked into it. He used it instead to simplify his life. To talk his way out of traffic tickets and library fines, late arrivals and missed birthdays. And now, a fucked up order.

“I really don’t think I ordered this though,” the customer said, his words soft and hesitant as him mind started to sway.

A hand clapped Aoba’s shoulder as he opened his mouth to further convince the customer, his words dying on his tongue as he looked at who it was.

“Mr. Haga,” Aoba said, forcing a smile. Shit. This was not good timing. He’d slipped into overtime and had an unhappy customer on his hands. The last thing he needed was his manager taking notice of the situation. “I was just finishing up here, I’ll be done in a sec.”

“Is there an issue?” Mr. Haga asked, his voice genuine with concern.

“No, not at all,” Aoba rushed to say, waving Mr. Haga off. “It’s just a small mix up, is all.”

“As much as I enjoy your worth ethic, please do be mindful of the clock,” Mr. Haga said as he smiled gently before leaving to check the other stations.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Aoba rolled his shoulders in preparation for finishing off his sweet talk. His lips were just starting to form the words he needed when the customer spoke up.

“I’m allergic to mushrooms,” he said.

Oh.

For the first time, Aoba looked at the customer. 

His eyes were a wild gold that didn’t suit the rest of his face, his features serious. He was handsome in a way that Aoba had come to expect from cover models on self published indie magazines. Models that didn’t sell because of how they looked in clothes, but for how they look at you.

Aoba felt immediately like an asshole. Could mushroom allergies be deadly? Probably. Peanut allergies could be deadly after all, and they were only the size of a pinkie nail. Aoba made a quick tally of the mistakes he’d made in the span of the last ten minutes. A wrong order, going into overtime without permission, and almost killing Hottie McHotterson.

Fantastic.

“Look, I’m─ I’m sorry, please let me know your original order, I’ll fix it at once,” Aoba said, looking away. His cheeks were hot with more than just embarrassment.

“A chicken sandwich with no tomato,” the man said. He didn’t sound angry, not even exasperated. His tone held a practiced patience that Aoba associated with old school teachers.

“I’ll get right on that,” Aoba said.

He ducked away from the window and made the sandwich himself, throwing it into a new bag and adding a slice of coconut pie in apology. He wondered if the man might be allergic to coconuts as well, and added a slice of chocolate in case. By the time he was back to the window, he’d thrown in a coupon for a free meal as well.

It wouldn’t make up for practically being a murderer, but it was the most Aoba could do.

“My apologies for the trouble,” Aoba said as he handed the bag over. “I hope it won’t affect your future business with us.”

The man nodded once, slow and solemn.

“I’m sure it was an honest mistake,” he said, his head cocking for a moment as he thought. “I nearly forget I was allergic to begin with.”

He sounded mystified that such a thing could happen. Aoba rubbed a hand against the back of his neck and shrugged, tasting guilt like bile in the back of his throat. Note to self, own up to mistakes instead of practically committing homicide to save face. Especially if the person you’re trying to save face in front of is ridiculously handsome.

\---

By the time Aoba punched out, his bus was long gone. And by extension, his train. He checked his wallet for bus fare, and finding little less than a dollar, decided he may as well treat himself to an energy drink considering the long trek he’d have to make on foot. Twenty minutes in he found himself regretting going for the knock off brand, his body charged with so much caffeine he was sure his skin was going to crawl off.

He ran the rest of the way home, half from the drink, and half from the fear of dark roads at night. His lungs ached and his jacket clung to him with sweat when he made it back to his apartment, toeing his shoes off at the door as he locked up. The place was dark and quiet, save for the TV that seemed to be airing a terrible scifi movie. 

Aoba could faintly make out his house mate on the couch watching it, if only because his piercings caught the light of the screen.

"I thought you died," he said, not looking up. It sounded like a half truth.

"Oh, uh. I didn’t, but I appreciate the concern," Aoba said, shrugging off his coat and hanging it by the door. "Anyone else still up?"

"Nah, Clear knocked out earlier. Said something about needing to get up early to work on his craft stuff. There’s Chinese in the fridge if you want some, though."

“Thanks for the heads up. Night, Noiz,” Aoba said, taking to the stairs. He was too tired to consider eating, and leftovers tasted better in the morning anyway.

Aoba shuffled into his bedroom and collapsed on the bed in a tired heap. He kicked off his pants in lieu of changing into pajamas, groaning with exhaustion as he wriggled his was beneath the covers. At the end of the bed, his allMATE stirred, carefully stepping over Aoba’s legs as it approached his head.

"Ren," Aoba said with a tired whine, scooping up the small dog and tucking it against his chest.

"Aoba," Ren said in recognition as his paws came to rest against Aoba. “You’ve arrived home later than is usual for your schedule. Was there anything of issue?"

"Nothing major, just the usual sort of screw up," Aoba said.

“Screw up?” Ren asked, low and concerned.

“Messed up an order because I was thinking about getting off. Then kind of lied about it, and even worse was that was guy was kinda... well,” Aoba said, catching himself. He didn’t need to divulge details about how he looked. It would only worsen the embarrassment.

“Rude?” Ren offered.

“No- no, he wasn’t like that. He was pretty nice, actually,” Aoba said. “Just- never mind. It’s over, I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

Aoba knew that was his own code for the fact he was going to think about it all night and well into next week. That the second it left his memory he’d be washing his hair and it’d hit him once more, the shame and embarrassment, the insatiable urge to go back and right his wrongs.

Ren shifted in Aoba's hold, the sound of his sniffing light.

"You should rest, Aoba," Ren said seriously.

“Mm, yeah. I’ll get on that,” Aoba said.

He gave a weary sigh as he buried his nose in Ren’s fur. He smelled like takeout, and Aoba wondered if he’d been waiting up with Noiz before retiring to the bedroom. It seemed like something he would do.

"Puppy," Aoba mumbled, smiling as he felt Ren’s tail wag. "My sweet pupperoni pizza. You're too good to me. "

“Aoba, please sleep,” Ren said, sounding as flustered as his monotone voice would allow.

“Alright, alright,” Aoba said, smiling against Ren as he took his advice.

\---

Clear was already in the kitchen the next day when Aoba entered, one hand sliding up his shirt as he scratched at his grumbling stomach. Clear looked up, smile as bright as his pink eyes as he lifted a hand to wave to Aoba. Scattered before him was an array of twine, metallic tubes, and plastic gemstones.

“Morning,” Aoba croaked as he went to the fridge, grabbing a carton of takeout before going for a fork.

“Goof _afternoon_ ,” Clear corrected, his tone cheerful and informative, lacking any true judgement. 

“Uh, yeah. That,” Aoba said.

He speared a piece of cold orange chicken as he went to take a seat at the table, the click of Ren’s nails following him. Aoba dutifully scooped Ren up as he sat, placing him on the table. Ren bowed his head in thanks, sitting promptly beside Clear’s work.

“Good afternoon to you too, Ren,” Clear said, pausing to ruffle the fur between Ren’s ears.

“And a pleasant afternoon to you as well,” Ren said.

“So, crafts,” Aoba said, raiding his eyebrows at the organized mess of the table. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was meant to be.

“Wind chimes,” Clear offered, raising one that was nearly completed.

It clanged soft and melodic as Clear held it up, the metal burnished and dark. Aoba stared at it thoughtfully as he swallowed a particularly unpleasant piece of gristle. Something about it was off, the angle at which it hung a little wrong. Just a touch though, a slight hint that was almost imperceptible amidst its charm. Kind of like Clear, really.

“You sure do like wind chimes, huh?”

“Yes, of course,” Clear said as he set it down to work on his next piece. “They’re like little land jellyfish.”

"Huh, I guess that’s one way to look at it," Aoba said, tilting his head.

He continued to watch Clear with unfocused eyes as he ate, barely aware of the soft conversation Clear and Ren were making. Aoba found his mind drifting back to the night before, as he’d feared. He played the scenario twice over in his mind. The first time he ran through it true to form, complete with every fuck up. The second time, he went down a path in which he’d never gotten the order wrong to begin with. That one ended with a lot more small talk, a promise to return, and maybe a wink.

He was totally hopeless, even with strangers. Like he’d ever see the guy again...

Even if he did, who was to say the guy would have any interest in him, someone who couldn’t get a simple order right? Someone who still worked at a dead end job and shared a place with two ragtag house mates. Not that he didn’t like them. At this point, he wasn’t sure he could ever leave them. Lord knew Clear was naive enough to give up his life savings, and Noiz wasn’t the definition of accident prone so much as his daily existence was a near death experience.

It wasn’t a bad life, but it could be better. 

“Red or blue?” Clear asked suddenly, the question pulling Aoba back into the conversation.

Aoba blinked owlishly as he took in Clear’s words, looking at the plastic gemstones of the corresponding colors that Clear was holding up.

"Blue,” Aoba said. Not because it was better, but because he was biased.

“Blue does seem more suited to the finish of those particular chimes," Ren agreed. Aoba gave him a quick pat to show his appreciation for the save.

"Good call," Clear said. He stuck a dab of adhesive to the back of the gem and applied it to the chime, humming to himself as he admired the results.

"When exactly is the fair?" Aoba asked as he stood, stretching before he went to toss the empty carton in the trash.

"This upcoming Sunday. You should come if you can. It’s nice, really nice," Clear said. His voice went distant like it always did before he started going on about something he loved.

Aoba glanced at the whiteboard calendar to check his schedule and found the day free.

"Couldn’t hurt to check it out," Aoba said. "Plus it would be a pain for you to carry all your stuff alone on the train, huh?"

Clear ducked his head sheepishly as Aoba saw through his ploy.

"Exactly," he said enthusiastically. "I’m sure it will be the most fun you’ve ever had."


	2. Chapter 2

Clear’s words rang in Aoba’s head when his alarm went off at 5 am that Sunday morning. He could think of a lot of things more fun than getting up ass crack early on his day off. Like getting out of bed only after the sun had risen, and sleeping more than six hours. He hauled himself downstairs to find Clear already in the kitchen, wares laid across the table as he wrapped each one in newspaper. Noiz stood beside him, fitting each finished piece into a box as though he was playing Tetris.

Aoba opened his mouth to voice his surprise at how early Noiz was up, but realized before speaking that Noiz had probably never gone to sleep.

"Ah, Aoba. Good to see you’re already awake. We’re almost done here, so please have some breakfast while you wait," Clear said as he looked up.

Aoba made a tired noise of agreement as he went to the cupboard, grabbing a cereal bar and tearing into the packaging. It tasted like sweet styofoam, and three bites in he decided he’d rather wait until later to find real food. He stayed out of the way as his house mates carefully wrapped and packed each piece, opting instead to do his part by brewing coffee. He was on his third cup by the time Clear stood back to admire their work.

"Bring me back deep fried oreos," Noiz said as he poured himself a cup of coffee. It was more creamer and sugar than anything else.

"I don’t think it’s that kind of fair," Aoba said.

"Then bring back one of those glass dildos. You know the ones. Their seller’s lips say ‘special centerpiece' but their eyes say ‘cram it up your ass.'"

"Okay, it is definitely not that kind of fair."

"You never know," Noiz said, tapping his index finger against a lip piercing. "Either way, get me something cool."

“We’ll get you nothing but the coolest,” Clear assured, winding a warm scarf around his neck.

Noiz turned to Aoba, staring him down with serious eyes.

“Get me something _I_ think is cool. Not something Clear thinks is cool.”

“No promises,” Aoba laughed, grabbing his own coat.

—

The train was nearly empty when they boarded, the usual morning commuters of the week still in bed. Aoba sat with a whumph, the box he’d been carrying situated in his lap. He hugged his arms around it with a yawn, letting his chin come to rest on the box. The coffee was wearing off, and fast.

"You can sleep if you’d like," Clear said as he sat next to Aoba, another box in his own lap. "I’ll wake you up at our stop."

"Mm, I’m fine," Aoba said, though his eyes insisted on closing.

He wasn’t exactly sure where the fair was, or how long it would take them to get there. All he knew was that the gentle rocking of the quiet carriage coupled with the soft melody Clear was idly humming was a fatal combination to his consciousness, his thoughts drifting as he dozed.

When Clear woke him, Aoba first insisted he hadn’t fallen asleep. Clear agreed in his usual genial fashion as he got to his feet, his box of goods held to his chest. Aoba followed suit as he blinked the last bit of sleep him his eyes, looking around as they exited the train. The air was crisp and cool, grey clouds stretching across the sky and muting what little sunlight there was. Around them trickled in a slow stream of people carrying their own goods, and Aoba found himself joining the crowd as they walked toward the fair grounds.

The registration process was quick and efficient, the lines fast moving. Clear read the maps with ease, finding his empty booth and setting his box down on the provided table. Aoba followed suit, and before long they were unpacking Clear’s crafts, carefully hanging chimes and putting out price placards. By the time they’d finished customers had begun to mill about the stalls, and Aoba found himself craving the opportunity to explore.

“I’m going to poke around for a bit, okay?” Aoba said, giving Clear a quick wave. “See if I can’t find something acceptably weird for Noiz.”

“Enjoy yourself,” Clear called after him. “I will be here if you need me.”

Aoba moved among the rows of booths, watching as the final touches were put on them. He found vacuum cleaner covers in the shape of people and charms written in languages he’d never seen. Animals made of bottle caps, and flowers of silk. Each time he managed to pull his attention away from one stall, it was snared on another, more novel item.

With the sun beginning to shine through the clouds, Aoba found a stall selling candied nuts and popcorn. Noiz’s fondness for all things sweet coming to mind, Aoba grabbed a bag before starting to head back to Clear’s stall. He has halfway there when he noticed the crowd, small but quickly growing. His steps slowed as he approached, his weight shifting to his toes as he peered over those before him to see what the fuss was about. 

In the center of the crowd was a performer, his act that of glass blowing. Aoba found himself as interested as those around him, curious as to what would be created. Three minutes in he started to get suspicious. Five minutes in, he found his cheeks flushing. No way. No fucking way. That was totally a glass dildo, no matter how much the performer insisted it was a ‘classic piece of art.’

Aoba turned on his heel before he could think much about it. Stupid Noiz being right. How did he even know these things to begin with? He shook his head in an attempt to settle his nerves, sniffing as he turned his back on the crowd. Really, the nerve of some people. Classic piece of art his ass. Knowing Noiz, he would have wanted to showcase it on the coffee table.

A glimmer caught Aoba’s eye as he looked around to orient himself, and he realized he still needed to find something for Clear. Clear, who liked all things that caught light, from diamonds to discs. Before Aoba were a dozen crafts that fit the bill, from crystals wrapped in wire to shining beads woven into bracelets.

Aoba hummed as he picked them over, admiring the craftsmanship and detail invested in each piece. He rolled the beads between his fingers, took in the colors of the quartz he saw. He brought a bundle of dried sage to his nose, sniffing it delicately before his eyes focused on the owner of the stall.

The dark of the drive thru hadn’t prepared Aoba for how truly handsome the man whose order he got wrong was. Handsome seemed like a watered down way to describe him now. The gold of his eyes was more striking now, features defined and sharp. The ends of his hair were warmed from the sun. His broad shoulders and olive skin spoke of Harlequin romance novel covers, but without the smarmy expression, or distressed damsel clinging to his leg.

“S-sorry,” Aoba stuttered, quickly replacing the sage. I was just looking.”

“With your hands,” the man said.

Any embarrassment Aoba had been shake after witnessing the glass blowing demonstration was back in full force, the tips of his ears burning hot. 

“I─ yeah, sorry,” Aoba repeated.

The man chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “That isn’t actually a problem.”

“Oh, well... good,” Aoba said, his words faltering. 

Shit, what a time to get tongue tied. He rubbed the back of his neck as his eyes looked everywhere but at the man. He spotted a set of business cards and was quick to pick one up, chewing the inside of his cheek as he looked it over. The font was simple, the card sporting barest details. There was no address, no website. Nothing but a name- Mink, Aoba noted- a phone number, and the words ‘Native American Artisan Crafts.’

“Mink?” Aoba ventured, glancing up. 

“Yes?” he answered. 

The burn that bit at Aoba’s ears crept down his neck. He felt suddenly like he was a schoolkid trying to get the attention of an attractive teacher. A puppy love sort of ache that got worse with every word.

“You do nice work,” Aoba said. They weren’t the words he’d been wanting to say; those were stuck in his throat.

“Thank you,” Mink said, his attention focused on a small track of beads he was picking over, a blue jay’s feather beside them. 

Aoba glanced over the remaining rows of bracelets and ornaments as his thoughts clouded with anxiety. In his chest was the regret that had festered ever since he met Mink. It found him at the worst times, rose within him the moment he thought he was free of it. There was no shaking the sensation, and he knew unless he righted things it would remain a weight on his mind.

“I’m sorry,” Aoba said once more, glancing at Mink.

"As I’ve already told you, you’re allowed to touch my wares."

Aoba kicked his toe against the ground, hands clenching into fists before he mustered the courage to speak again. "No, not for that. For screwing up your order the other night."

The corner of Mink’s lip quirked up, his gaze remaining on the work he had at hand. “So you do remember me.”

Aoba nodded, licking his lips nervously. Mink set the ornament on his crafting desk before he stood. He was tall, much taller than Aoba had expected. It made head spin a little, or maybe he was swooning. He wasn’t sure which he wanted it to be.

"It was late, I’m sure you were more focused on going home," Mink said, soft and genial.

"That’s not an excuse though─"

"How about this," Mink interrupted as he came to Aoba’s side, holding up a hand to quiet Aoba. "I’ll come back at a more reasonable hour, and you can try again.”

Aoba blinked, first at the jewelry before him, then at Mink as he turned his head. Was he getting a do over? For once in his life, was he actually getting a second shot at not being a jackass upon first impression? He waited a moment, eyeing Mink carefully, waiting for him to laugh, or sneer, or do... something. Anything that wasn’t an act of sweet mercy.

“Deal,” Aoba said when the silence ebbed on awkward.

"And who is it I should ask for?" Mink prompted.

“O-oh, Aoba,” Aoba said.

Mink offered his hand to shake, and his grip was warm and firm when Aoba took it, shaking twice before their hands fell away.

“Aoba,” Mink said, inclining his head as though he enjoyed the feel of the name on his tongue. “If there’s anything I can help you find, please let me know.”

It turned out that Mink had an almost preternatural ability to pick gifts based on the short description Aoba was able to cobble together. All Mink needed to hear was ‘kind of weird, but in a nice way’ before he was gesturing at a pale dream catcher, a quartz centered in its web and dove-white feathers dangling from it. Aoba could almost hear Clear fawning over it already.

"And is this for a partner?" Mink asked as Aoba passed his coil near Mink’s to complete the transaction.

"That would be nice," Aoba said, laughing softly. "But no, I don’t have anyone like that- it’s for a friend, my roommate."

Mink smiled again as he wrapped the dream catcher in tissue paper. It was more genuine than his last, heartfelt. Aoba found it contagious, his own lips curving as he watched Mink bag his purchase.

The curve faltered when Mink added the ornament he’d been working on. 

“Wait, I didn’t pay for that," Aoba said quickly, stepping back as Mink tried to hand him the bag,

“And?" Mink asked.

“So you shouldn’t give it to me," Aoba said, taking another step back.

Mink hadn’t stopped smiling, pressing the bag to Aoba’s chest before letting go. Aoba caught it reflexively, but by the time he tried to give it back Mink had clasped his hands behind his back.

“And I didn’t pay for a good deal of what you gave me the other night,” Mink said. “And as it suits you, I see no better person to give it to.”

Aoba’s throat went dry as he swallowed hard, his heart kickstarting. He wasn’t exactly sure what _it_ was, but to think it suited him to the point that Mink felt obligated to push it upon him... No. He was not going to go down that puppy love bath. It was a simple token of appreciation, Aoba told himself. Nothing more. 

"Well, thank you. I really appreciate it and I’ll be sure to put it to good use." _Once I figure out what it is_ , Aoba tacked on in his head.

"Do as you will," Mink said with a nod as he returned to his work desk. "I’ll see you soon enough."

With a shaky wave Aoba was off, one word repeating in his head.

Soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to post chapter four only to realize I never posted chapter three. I am... so sorry...

The more Aoba tried not to think about Mink’s words, the more he did. How soon exactly was soon? Not soon enough, Aoba decided. Or maybe too soon. God, he needed to get his hormones under wraps first before even thinking of looking at Mink’s face. Blowing a sigh past pursed lips, he hastened his stride as he looked for Clear’s stall.

Aoba heard Clear’s voice before finding him. Bright and animated, Aoba slowed to watch from afar as Clear came into view, his scarf hiked up to his mouth. He was on his feet, gesturing around himself, his stall much barer than Aoba had recalled leaving it. Clear sounded like he was trying to get animals adopted more than he was trying to sell wind chimes, pinning each one with a personality that he assured customers would be a good fit.

“Looks like you’re popular,” Aoba said warmly as he squeezed through the small crowd.

Clear grinned in response as he finished another sale. “It’s a surprise, even to myself.”

“It shouldn’t be, you’re great at this sort of thing.”

“You think so?" Clear asked as he shrugged, small and humble.

“I know so,” Aoba assured, looking at the nearly empty table before him, Clear’s stack of business cards nearly decimated.

An hour later Clear had nothing left to sell, and Aoba was reminded of his skipped breakfast by a rumbling stomach. They packed up what little remained on the table, Clear bubbling with excitement over with his unexpected success, insisting on treating Aoba to a late lunch.

They wandered the fair in search of hot food, Clear tossing the occasional wistful glance at a stall he wanted to look at. Aoba shortened his steps each time, allowing Clear a moment to peruse his neighbor’s goods, pretending he needed to rest for a moment when Clear found something he absolutely had to stop, touch, and sometimes smell.

Aoba found himself half eager, half afraid when they began to walk down Mink’s aisle. He struggled to avert his eyes from the familiar stall, focusing instead on Clear’s endless, blissful smalltalk. No matter how soon he wanted soon to be, this would certainly be too soon to see him again.

With a start Clear grasped Aoba’s arm, oohing and awwing softly as he pulled Aoba to the exact place he was feverishly wishing they wouldn’t end up. Nervous sweat beaded on his brow as his body was forced to follow Clear’s, his mouth going dry as they neared. His heart was rattling in his chest when Clear finally stopped.

“Oh,” Clear said, tone soft and confused. “There’s no one here.”

Aoba blinked as he looked up. This was definitely Mink’s stall, and those were definitely his crafts. The one thing that wasn’t there was Mink. Where he’d been seated was a small placard instead, neat writing announcing a return time. 

“They must be out to lunch,” Clear said, perking up a moment later. “As we should be!”

As it turned out, there were no deep fried oreos at the food stalls, but there were roasting legs of mutton, organic greens fresh that morning from the gardens of the sellers, and several things that Aoba had never heard of without the word ‘super food’ being affixed to its name. Clear shooed Aoba away to find a table while he ordered, promising to join him in a matter of minutes.

Aoba seated himself at a small table, brushing from it the left over crumbs of what was last eaten there. He settled his hands on his thighs after that, patting them without rhythm as he scanned those that passed him by, searching for Mink. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he glanced from face to face, skimming features before moving on to the next person.

“Is something wrong?” Clear asked as he sat, settling a tray laden with food on the table.

“No,” Aoba said, too fast and high to be casual. “I mean, I lost track of you is all.”

Clear chucked softly as he shook his head, pushing one of the plates of food on the tray toward Aoba. The food on it wasn’t immediately recognizable, but the scent alone kicked Aoba’s hunger into overdrive, his mouth watering in anticipation. He ate with half the grace of a dog and all the enthusiasm with a starved man, his attention solely settled on filling his stomach.

Half an hour later as Clear and Aoba took their seats on the train, food coma encroaching on the horizon. Aoba patted at his full belly as his eyes closed, smiling to himself as he relaxed into his seat. Beside him, Clear was in a similar state, head lolling back as he yawned 

“Today was very nice, don’t you think?” Clear asked.

“Beyond nice,” Aoba agreed. “Cool things, hot guys, good food. Please tell me you’re going to do this again.”

Clear was silent at that, and Aoba counted the seconds as he waited for a reply. Fifteen went by before he opened his eyes and glanced over. Clear’s eyes were wide and bright, his head cocking like a confused dog’s as he looked at Aoba. It was an expression that predated a barrage of questions every time.

“Hot guys?” Clear asked. 

Aoba waved his hand as if to chase away the question, redirecting his gaze to the landscape that blurred by.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Is that why Aoba was gone so long? Was he associating with someone that caught his eye?”

“Ugh, don’t talk about me like I’m not here. It was just one guy, and it was nothing. It’ll probably stay nothing, too.”

“Probably?” Clear pressed.

“He said he’d come see me at work sometime.” Sometime _soon_. “But it doesn’t really matter.”

Clear clapped his hands together in a short round of applause that made Aoba want to melt into his seat with embarrassment.

“It does matter,’” Clear insisted. “It is a chance for you to meet someone new. To be happier. To me, Aoba’s happiness is my own.”

“Oh my God,” Aoba groaned, bringing his hands up to cover his face. His cheeks were hot against his palms. “You’re making it worse.”

Clear’s laughter rang out like a bell as he nudged his shoulder against Aoba’s, but he dropped the conversation after that, allowing the comfortable silence between them to reemerge. Aoba’s cheeks refused to cool, even when his hands fell away and he studied the falling twilight outside the window. It didn’t matter, he reminded himself. It was totally whatever.

\---

It still didn’t matter, he decided the next night at work. Never mind that he currently had Mink’s gift woven through his hair, Clear immediately identifying it as an ornament. Aoba had to admit it did suit him as he checked his reflection in the mirror as he washed his hands. He flicked the excess water from his fingers before grabbing a paper towel to dry them.

Aoba’s shift passed on auto pilot, a repetition of greeting, receiving orders, taking money and handing out meals. He spent his break holed up in the employees only room, appetite smothered with nerves as he touched the ornament Mink had given him. Clear had loved it nearly as much as the dream catcher Aoba got him, and Noiz waggled what little he had of his eyebrows when he heard the story of how Aoba got it. 

When his break ended, Aoba adjusted his ornament one last time as he stood, washing his hands again before returning to his post. One eye remained on the clock as he worked, the nearing approach of the end of his shift both a relief and a dread. What if Mink didn’t show up? Or worse, showed up after Aoba had left. Aoba cringed at the thought.

He was still worrying over it when he was pulled from his thoughts when someone began their order not with the usual hemming and hawing followed by a combo number, but instead, “Firstly, I’m allergic to mushrooms.”

Aoba’s eyes widened. Though he couldn’t yet see who spoke it, he knew that voice.

“Mink?” he ventured.

“Aoba,” Mink returned cordially. 

Aoba paused, licking his lips as he pulled himself together. Here was his second chance not to be a monumental fuck up.

“Right, no mushrooms. Extra no mushrooms, even. And what else?”

“What do you suggest?”

Aoba blinked and looked up to the ceiling. While the food they served was far from high class, it was made with fresh ingredients and heart. If heart made a difference. Aoba liked to think it did.

“Well, the number four is good if you like veggie burgers, and we have a seasonal pumpkin shake that’s to die for.”

“I’ll take them both then,” Mink said without hesitation. “And a number two with sweet tea.”

Aoba punched in the order, barely hesitating as he recited it back to Mink. Two meals? Mink must have brought someone else in his truck. Aoba had never stopped to think of the people Mink already had in his life. A girlfriend? Maybe even a wife. Or a kid. It was hard to pin an age to Mink, but it wasn’t out of the question to think he was old enough to have fathered a child.

“If you’ll pull up to the second window, I’ll have your order ready in a moment,” Aoba assured, ducking away from his post to start Mink’s milkshake.

When Aoba went to give Mink his food, he studied the inside of Mink’s cab as best he could. There was nothing to suggest a passenger. No discarded coat or hat, no sign anyone else rode in the seat. Aoba’s questions only multiplied at that.

“No mushrooms?” Mink asked to confirm.

“Not a single one,” Aoba promised. “So um, drive safe, okay?”

“I will,” Mink said. “See you soon.”

With that Mink let his hands rest on the steering wheel, easing his foot off the brake. Aoba was left to stare at the empty spot, disappointment welling in his chest. That was... it? That was it. Nothing more than a brief exchange in which he redeemed himself and nothing more. In the end, it truly hadn’t mattered.

His shift ending minutes later, Aoba scuffed his foot against the ground as he left the restaurant, hugging his coat around himself. The air was brisk and nippy, the wisps of his hair that escaped being tied up fluttering around his face. He checked his coil for the time, lips thinning as he saw how late it was, his train soon to arrive at the station. And possibly leave without him.

Aoba hurried through the parking lot as he headed for the street, the low light of the laps failing to fully illuminate the figure he jogged by.

“Oi, what’s the rush?”

It took Aoba four steps for the words to register, and three more to realize they were being spoke to him. He halted midstride, looking over his shoulder. Leaning against the bed off his truck, arms folded across his strong chest, was Mink.

“Mink─ oh, I’m sorry, but I have to catch my train.”

“How about instead of you running for the train," Mink started. “I give you a ride?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how last time I said I went to post chapter 4 only to find I hadn't posted chapter 3? That's exactly what I did again. But this time I went to post 5 and saw I hadn't posted 4.

Aoba hesitated at Mink’s offer. A ride sounded nice. Better than nice. Though he was used to the train, it wasn’t his preference to take it, especially when alone. His aura had a way of attracting the worst attention, and the thought of having a night off from that was a relief.

“And dinner,” Mink added.

_Sold_.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Aoba said, feigning an unwillingness to impose for the sake of appearances.

“I’m not against having your company outside of work,” Mink said, going around to the passenger side to open the door. Aoba didn’t miss how Mink’s gaze caught on the ornament in his hair, and neither did he miss how his eyes lit and lips curved. He had such a pretty smile, soft and understated. Not at all like Aoba’s heartbeat. 

The inside of the cab was warm, the keys already in the ignition and the heater running as Mink helped himself into the driver side. In the drink holder was the sweet tea and milk shake, the bag of food occupying the middle seat. Mink doled it out easily, handing Aoba a wrapped burger and a side of fries along with a napkin as he inclined his head at the milk shake.

Aoba shot a borderline scandalized look at Mink as he accepted the food. Mink had _planned_ this. Had come once again before Aoba was off his shift and outright asked what food he liked before proceeding to order it. And Aoba had unknowingly played along every step of the way.

“You look nice tonight,” Mink said as he unwrapped his own sandwich. 

“Thanks, I─” Aoba halted. Tried to? Wanted to? No, best not to admit it was his intention, especially with Mink in mind. “I appreciate the food.”

They made small talk about their work as they ate and commented on the weather. Told one another anecdotes and mentioned small details of their daily lives. Mink lived alone in a town that Aoba had heard of only in passing. When Aoba checked the location on his coil, he found it to be nearly three hours away, and practically in the middle of nowhere.

"Don’t tell me you commute every day," Aoba said.

Mink chuckled. “No, I come here on occasion for supplies, and at times stay at an inn if the fair is here. Otherwise I keep to myself.”

Aoba chewed at the tip of his straw and nodded along. “And it’s not lonely?”

“I have an ALLmate.”

Aoba brightened at that. “Do you? What kind? I have one too, not that I can bring him to work, hygiene laws and all. He’s so small and cute though, I love him to bits. I mean, he’s an older model, but─ ah, listen to me, talking a mile a minute.”

“You do chatter like a bird,” Mink agreed.

Aoba ducked his head, hoping his flushing cheeks wouldn’t show in the dark cab. “Sorry about that.”

“I didn’t say it was unpleasant.”

Aoba’s half choked on his milkshake, clearing his throat quickly to hide it. Was that a thinly veiled compliment? God, he hoped it was. Then he could pretend this was something more than a chat. Something more like, well, a date. Not that someone like Mink, someone as strong and handsome and kind, would want to do anything more than talk to him.

But Aoba was young and full of hormones, and he hoped much more than was healthy for him.

Saving Aoba from the trouble of trying to decipher Mink’s words was the chirp of his coil, and he flashed Mink and apologetic smile before checking the alert. It was Noiz.

“missed the train again?’

Aoba grimaced as he noticed the time. He should have been home nearly two hours ago.

“Something wrong?” Mink asked.

“Ah, no. I just... I don’t know, got kind of caught up talking to you. Forget to let my roomies know I’d be a little late.”

Mink rubbed his chin thoughtfully and nodded. “I should get you home, shouldn’t I?”

The correct answer was ‘yes.’ Aoba didn’t want that to be the correct answer. He wanted to stay in the warmth of car, stomach full and body tired, enjoying Mink’s company and the few words he spoke.

“I guess,” Aoba agreed. Less because he wanted to, and more because he suddenly recalled the drive Mink had ahead of him.

Mink turned the key in the ignition as Aoba buckled his seatbelt, tugging at it anxiously as he looked over at Mink.

“You’re going to want to take a right out of the parking lot, I’ll explain it all from there.”

Aoba made a point of picking the long way home. Scenic, Clear called it. Traffic-fucking-jammed was Noiz’s own name for it. But this late at night the roads were empty, the drive over all too quickly as the old house Aoba rented came into view. The porch was lit and from the flashes seen against the front window, it looked like Noiz had taken to watching TV while waiting up for him.

“Well, this’ll be me,” Aoba said as the truck came to a stop. He unbuckled his belt, brushing crumbs from his lap as he dragged out the seconds.

Mink was fast. Too fast, Aoba decided as Mink managed to exit the truck and come around to Aoba’s side in the time it took for him to breathe twice. Aoba stared blankly as Mink opened his door, a confused frown on his face until Mink offered a hand.

“Need help getting out?”

“Maybe a little,” Aoba lied, snapping to his senses long enough to take Mink’s hand and slide down from his seat.

Aoba’s steps were short and shuffling as he approached the porch, Mink at his side. He stopped when they reached the door, turning to look up at Mink. He was tall enough to block the porch light, the halo around his head interrupted by a moth that had taken to circling him.

“Thanks,” Aoba said. “For tonight and everything. I mean, I appreciate you letting me make it all up to you.”

“I figured I should allow you as much,” Mink said. “Seeing as how late I came the first time.”

“Ha, yeah. I guess it was pretty late. Hell, even now it’s late. Do you, I dunno, maybe want coffee? You could meet my roommates. And Ren. You’d love Ren.”

Mink’s gaze went momentarily distant before he shook his head.

“I should really get home.”

Aoba’s stomach flipped. He’d been expecting that answer.

“It’s such a long drive, though─”

“I‘ve made it before.”

Aoba chewed the inside of his cheek, reaching out to rub his hand along Mink’s forearm to keep him there. “But there are animals on the road. Things like deer and… and owls.”

Mink eyed Aoba‘s hand, though he didn‘t pull away.

“I’m not going to hit an owl.”

“But deer,” Aoba repeated, squeezing Mink’s sleeve. “Just stay for a bit, okay?”

It wouldn’t be weird if Mink came in. Hell, it wouldn’t be weird even if he stayed the night. That had been how Noiz came into his life, brought home by Clear, bruised and under the influence of who knew what. He’d spent the night on the couch, and come morning, hadn’t left. Now Noiz was a permanent fixture, a de facto roommate.

“Next time,” Mink said.

“You promise?" Aoba asked, rolling the hem of Mink’s sleeve between his fingers.

“Promise,” Mink said.

Aoba let go of Mink’s sleeve and rocked back on his heels as he smiled, his heart fluttering. 

“Well, I guess I’ll have to let you go,” he said, reaching into his bag for a pen and an old receipt, jotting his number on the back of it. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“I don’t text,” Mink said, pocketing the receipt.

Aoba leveled Mink with a look. “Get with the times, then.”

“We’ll see,” Mink said, smile small and crooked.

Aoba floundered in that moment as their time to part came. He wanted to hug Mink─ no, he wanted to do a lot more than hug him. Hugging was minimal in his mind. But Mink was... serious. Professional. It was hard for Aoba to picture anyone hugging Mink. He opted for a handshake instead, reaching out to Mink.

Mink took his hand, but the shake never came. His grip was firm, fingers squeezing slightly. Goosebumps prickled along Aoba’s skin as the seconds passed, his pulse in his ears when Mink’s thumb brushed over his knuckles. It was nice. Much nicer than a handshake. Maybe even nicer than a hug.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Mink said when he let go, barely raising his hand in a wave.

“Yeah, soon,” Aoba agreed. “Drive safe. Be safe. That sort of thing.”

Aoba waited until Mink was back in his truck to go inside, casting a look over his shoulder as he let himself in. Inside the droning chatter of the television met his ears, and when he looked to the couch he found Noiz still up, Clear slumped against his side. A blanket was strewn across both their laps. 

“Who was that?” Noiz asked.

“Who was who?” Aoba returned, hanging his coat up.

“Outside, who were you talking to? Or are you already senile and talking to yourself?”

“Oh, him? That was... a friend. He picked me up after work and we went out to eat.”

“So it was a date?”

“It was dinner.”

“Yeah, dinner. Which is basically a date. Not to mention he walked you to the door.”

Aoba rubbed his temple. “I’m going to bed.”

“Good plan,” Noiz said, shifting where he sat.

“Stay,” Clear groaned sleepily, wrapping his arms around Noiz and keeping him still. Noiz squirmed, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“If we’re going to crash here, at least let me get my binder off,” Noiz grumbled.

Aoba took to the stairs as Clear and Noiz continued their back and forth, his steps slow with exhaustion as he made for his room. Ren lifted his head from where he sat on the bed as Aoba entered, his tail wagging slowly as his ears perked forward.

“Welcome home, Aoba,” he said.

Aoba nodded his acknowledgment and shot Ren a smile as he changed into pajamas, dropping onto his bed with a tired sigh. “Managed to hold down the fort without me?”

“As best I could.”

Aoba laughed softly as wormed his way beneath the covers, bundling Ren into his arms and yawning against his fur. He wanted to tell Ren everything. About the slow drag of his shift to Mink’s reappearance and the evening that had followed. How his heart had a nasty habit of beating twice as fast as it had any reason to in Mink’s presence. And most of all, how he wanted to see Mink again.

But he was tired, and when he tried to speak the words came out soft and mumbled. His breathing turned even and deep as he stopped trying to fend off sleep, Ren quietly adjusting himself until he was tucked beneath Aoba’s chin, warm and whirring. Aoba drifted off as the soft patter of rain met his ears, the wind chime Clear had hung outside sounding.

The rain had turned to a steady drumming when his coil rang, jerking him from sleep and nearly sending Ren to the floor as he sat up. The number on his screen was unknown, and the time he read was just shy of 5 am. Aoba squinted in confusion as he picked up the call, unsure of who could be calling this late─ or was it early?

“Hello?” he asked, voice groggy and low.

“Aoba,” the other voice said. Deep and warm, Aoba knew who it was immediately. 

“Mink? What are you─ are you okay?” Aoba asked.

“I’m fine. In fact, that’s why I’m calling.”

“You’re calling me... to say you’re fine?” Aoba echoed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“You did ask me to let you know when I made it home safely.”

“I said to text me,” Aoba griped, flopping onto his back.

“And I told you I don’t text.”

Aoba sighed as he hiked the covers over his head, kicking his feet. As much as he hated his sleep being interrupted, it was a relief to know Mink had arrived home without issue. Except that it was nearly dawn, Mink’s arrival time well over the three hour mark that Aoba had figured it to be.

“How many owls did you hit on the drive over, or do you usually drive at speeds that would put a senior to shame?”

On the other end of the line, Mink clucked his tongue. “Quite the mouth you have. And no owls this time, just engine trouble.”

“I may have a mouth, but you have some nerve,” Aoba said, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand. “Go to sleep already.”

“I will, and you do the same,” Mink said, the line going dead before Aoba could respond.

Aoba shifted under the covers as he placed his coil back on the nightstand, holding the blanket up long enough for Ren to slip under them.

“Was that call of importance?” Ren asked, turning in circles before settling down.

“Kind of? I don’t know. I guess. It was the guy from the other night, the customer I was telling you about.”

“Calling at this time?”

“I told him to. Well, not explicitly to call, but whatever. It’s fine,” Aoba said, tugging Ren closer.

Ren didn’t ask questions after that, powering down once more as Aoba fell back to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

It was nearly afternoon by the time Aoba roused himself again, aided by the encouragement of both the vocal and physical variety on Ren’s behalf. Aoba slogged through his routine of washing up and making sure his hair didn’t look entirely like a bird’s nest before he made his way downstairs for food. 

The first thing he noticed was that the kitchen smelled of burnt mystery ingredients and air freshener trying to cover it up.

“One pancake or two?” Noiz asked, not looking up from the batter he was mixing. He had a cow lick that was attempting to secede from the rest of his hair. It was close to winning.

“One is fine,” Aoba said groggily, grabbing a pitcher of orange juice from the fridge before setting Ren on the counter and pouring himself a glass. It wasn’t long before Clear drifted into the kitchen to join them.

“So?” Clear asked, face sweet and innocent.

“So?” Aoba repeated.

“Last night. You had a date, I hear. A date with Mr. Hot from the fair.”

“It wasn’t a date. It was dinner and a ride home.”

“Did he pay for dinner?” Clear asked.

“Okay, yeah, but only because I didn’t get a chance to. He asked what I thought was good and then bought it without saying it was for me.”

“That is the datiest thing I have ever heard, and I’ve seen more rom coms than I’d like to admit,” Noiz said, sliding a pancake onto a plate and handing it to Aoba.

“It really wasn’t a date,” Aoba groaned.

“Did you want it to be a date?” Clear asked innocently.

Aoba let his plate drop with a clatter to the table as he sat, pushing his hair out of his face before buttering his pancake and dousing it with syrup. Did he want it to be a date? Fucking duh. But Mink hadn’t said it was a date. He was serious and composed and impossible to read, stoic in a way that drew Aoba’s interest.

“Not only did Aoba want it to be a date, it _was_ a date,” Noiz said flatly as he served a plate stacked with pancakes to Clear. 

“He didn’t say it was one,” Aoba grumbled.

“And I bet he also didn’t say it wasn’t one,” Noiz countered, wagging his spatula at Aoba.

Aoba didn’t dignify Noiz’s point with a response, opting instead to busy his mouth with a too-big bite of pancakes. Beside him, Clear topped his pancakes with fruit, the presentation impeccable before he tucked in. Noiz joined them with his own plate, which soon became more whipped cream and syrup than pancake.

“You know,” Clear said, in the light and well meaning tone that normally proceeded a bad idea on his end. “I could tell him.”

“Tell who what?” Aoba asked.

“Tell that man that you like him,” Clear clarified.

“This isn’t middle school,” Aoba said as he finished the last bite of his breakfast, downing the rest of his juice before standing. He didn’t get out of bed for the pleasure of being interrogated over his nonexistent love life.

“So you do like him,” Noiz said sagely, his cheeks chipmunk-full with the sheer amount of pancake in them.

Aoba shut his eyes tight until the urge to punch Noiz passed and washed his plate quickly, setting it on the drying rack before scooping Ren and making for the living room. Of course he liked Mink, what wasn’t there to like? Mink was strong-jawed and olive-skinned, his shoulders were strong and his smile kind. Aoba discovered a new detail every time he looked at Mink, from how the ends of his hair curled in subtle waves to the way his voice warmed when he talked about his craft.

All this after seeing him only twice. Aoba had it bad, and he knew it.

The TV warned of storms throughout the week, but Aoba barely listened. He was too busy running his hands mindlessly over Ren, conjuring up meandering daydreams. Daydreams in which he saw Mink again, daydreams in which he was composed and eloquent. Charming, even. Daydreams of a life he wanted but didn’t deserve, one in which he went to sleep with someone beside him, and woke to find them still there.

Aoba splayed on his back on the couch, setting Ren on his face to muffle a loud groan. He was complicating something strictly uncomplicated, and none of his roommates were helping. His stomach curdled as he heard them wash their plates, their steps soon drawing close as they left the kitchen to join him in the living room. He slid Ren off his face and sat up to make room for them, knowing from past experience a pep talk was inevitable.

“Tell him you think he’s cute,” Noiz said as he sat beside Aoba. “Last I checked, that’s not illegal.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Aoba said. “You know what they call it when you run into someone you end up liking, and for no good reason at all they like you back? A fairy tale romance, because it’s that unrealistic.”

Clear sat at Aoba's other side, exchanging a quick glance with Noiz. They were the exception, a collision of personalities that had no right fitting together as well as they did. Aoba sighed as Clear gently nudged his shoulder, his expression drawn with concern. He took Aoba’s hand in his, doting and motherly as he squeezed it.

“I’ll set you up on match making dates,” Clear decided.

“Posting an ad on Craigslist doesn’t count,” Aoba said. 

“Tell them your parents are ridiculously rich, but that you won’t be able to inherit until you get married. Then they won’t expect you to have money right off the bat,” Noiz said.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You live with Clear, so that is not the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard,” Noiz countered. Clear let go of Aoba’s hand to reach over and swat Noiz.

“I will screen each applicant,” Clear promised. “No one who shows an interest in skin suits or nail clippings will be allowed to see you.”

Aoba laughed, but it was hollow and cold. The only thing more tiring than his lack of a love life was the interest his roommates had in creating one. 

When he stood, neither of them stopped him, but he felt their eyes on him as he went up the stairs, Ren under his arm. Weak light filtered through the clouds and through his window as he peered outside, the landscape as dreary and gray as his thoughts. He crawled back into his unmade bed, lying on his back as he set Ren on his chest, eyelids half closed as he debated spending the rest of his day off exactly where he was.

“Do you think anyone will ever actually want to date me?” Aoba asked, staring up at the ceiling.

Ren tucked his paws beneath himself as he settled on Aoba. “As people have dated you in the past, I see no reason why it should not happen again.”

“Okay, let me rephrase. Do you think anyone will consider me actually worth dating?”

Ren let out a deep, saddened whir as his systems processed the question. He leaned in close, warm breath puffing against Aoba’s skin as he nosed him.

“From my observations, you are worthy of the affections of whomever you choose.”

Aoba smiled wryly, tweaking one of Ren’s ears before kissing the tip of his nose. Ren’s words weren’t a perfect, soothing balm, but they were as genuine as an ALLmate’s could be, and for that Aoba was thankful. At least someone─ or something, thought he was up to snuff. Maybe Aoba could dedicate himself not to the pursuit of finding a romantic partner, but being the dog equivalent of a batty old cat lady. Even if he would only have one dog.

The rest of Aoba’s day was spent slogging through episodes of shows that had piled up, cliffhangers and twists solved as easily as hitting the ‘next’ button. He got up once to pee, once to get a bottle of water, and remained in bed with his brain turning to mush until day turned to dark, barely stirring when a knock came at his door.

“You awake?” Noiz asked as he peered in.

“Kinda,” Aoba said, rolling over.

“Cool,” Noiz said as he entered, shutting the door after he entered. He sat on the side of the bed with a whumph, a small savory smelling box in his hand that he waved at Aoba before announcing, “Pizza.”

“Yes, that’s pizza,” Aoba confirmed.

“Pizza for you, since you’re playing the hermit card today.”

Aoba laughed lightly as he sat up, pushing his bangs from his face as he accepted the pizza, flipping the lid open to find it decorated with his favorite toppings. His smile was lopsided when he met Noiz’s eye, and he pretended not to see the concern written on Noiz’s face.

“So you really like that guy, huh?” Noiz asked as Aoba tucked into his first slice.

“Did you bring me dinner as an excuse to grill me?” Aoba asked in turn.

“I’m being serious,” Noiz said. 

“So am I. And yeah, I do. I mean I don’t know him that well but he’s... nice. Nice in that way you think people just should be. Like someone who holds doors or helps you pick your things up when you drop them.”

“Hey, I hold doors all the time,” Noiz sniffed, stealing a slice of pepperoni. 

“You hold door when the person is thirty yards away so they have to hurry. Plus you keep eye contact the entire time. It’s creepy.”

“True, true," Noiz snorted, seemingly pleased with himself. “Still, if you like this guy, go for it.”

Aoba shrugged. “Why, though? I mean, what’s wrong with having him as a friend? It’s not like I have many of those to begin with.”

“Because the only thing better than having a friend, is having a friend whose butt you can grab whenever you want.”

“Look, I’m fine with having him as a friend, really.”

“I can’t believe you’re actively friend-zoning yourself,” Noiz said, shaking his head. “Come on, what’s the worst that could happen?”

_He could leave_ , Aoba thought. _Just like my parents._

It was a dark an instantaneous thought, one he didn’t care voice. But the fear of abandonment had rooted itself in his bones like a disease long ago, incurable and unignorable, going into boughts of remission but never truly disappearing. Maybe that was why he could never see himself living without Clear and Noiz. Their parents seemed entirely absent as well, figures that were never touched on.

“If you like him, let him know,” Noiz said. “It’s early enough that if he doesn’t feel you, it won’t make the relationship weird and you won’t be left wondering where you stand with him.”

Aoba paused, turning his head to scrutinize Noiz. “That almost sounds like good advice.”

“I read it in a Cosmo magazine when I went to the dentist yesterday,” Noiz said.

“Figures,” Aoba said with a laugh. “Anyway, I’ll think on it. Thanks for the pizza, I owe you.”

Noiz clucked his tongue and nodded before he stood. “Think it over, okay?”

“I will, I will,” Aoba assured, setting his pizza box aside as he watched Noiz leave. He wasn’t sure how much he meant it.


	6. Chapter 6

Two days later, Aoba had done nothing about his situation. He went about the daily grind of his life─ waking, working, and sleeping. He checked his coil from time to time, a faint hope in his heart that he’d find a message from Mink. But no, Mink didn’t text, that much he made clear. Maybe he barely got a signal out there in the boonies.

How often did he even come into town for supplies?

The question ate away at Aoba’s mind as he worked, his ears carefully tuned to pick up Mink’s voice should he come through the drive thru. But he didn’t, and Aoba went home each night with his step a little heavier than it had been when he left. On the fourth night, his train delayed and his resolve dwindling, he shot off a text.

“did the owls finally get you?”

Three minutes later his coil was ringing, Mink’s number flashing on the screen.

“Hello?” Aoba asked as he answered, the headlights of his train coming into view. 

“No owls, but I did see a coyote yesterday.”

“How exciting,” Aoba said as he boarded his train. “You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

And Mink did. His words were short and clipped, direct and to the point, but Aoba enjoyed each and every one. He prompted Mink for more with small questions and soft hums, stalling his own responses with mumbles and half-sentences. It didn’t take long for Mink to catch on.

“And your day?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Aoba said. “So, do you ever see bears out there?”

“Aoba.”

“I wasn’t joking,” Aoba said.

“I wasn’t implying you were.”

“Then what’s the hold up, huh? How about some answers?”

“I’d have let you keep texting if I didn’t want to hear your voice,” Mink said flatly.

Aoba paused, the tip of his tongue catching along his teeth as the words processed. 

“Wait, you like my voice?” Aoba ventured, unsure if a joke had sailed over his head.

There was no response on the other end, and Aoba checked his coil as the train jostled along to make sure the connection hadn’t been dropped. It was still going, their call time now nearing on sixteen minutes. Aoba’s heart gave an extra beat as he realized his stop would soon be up.

“So you do like it?” Aoba asked again for clarification.

“At what point did I disagree?” Mink asked in turn.

_Oh_. That... that was fucking smooth.

“Well,” Aoba stammered out, the train pulling up to his stop. “If I end up doing all the talking I’ll feel like weirdo, so let’s meet up again, okay?”

“I’m planning to,” Mink said.

“Soon?” Aoba hoped, stepping off the train and adjusting his shoulder bag.

“Soon,” Mink assured.

\---

The next day at work was slow and uneventful, Aoba’s eyes on the clock above his station for most of it. The dark clouds hanging overhead were keeping customers away, the lobby as empty as the parking lot. Aoba spent more of his shift organizing dipping sauce packets than taking orders, ducking his head out of the window on occasion in the hopes of spotting a familiar truck.

No dice.

It was half an hour before his last break when a hand clapped his shoulder, pulling him from leisurely daydreams.

“Why don’t you take off early?” came the voice of his manager. “It’s dead in here, and they say the storm is rolling in sooner than predicted.”

Aoba forced a smile, trying to wave his manager off. “I’m sure it’s just a lull, and you know how wrong those weather reporters can be.”

“I insist, Aoba,” his manager said. 

Aoba’s smile faltered. Being offered the chance to clock out now would usually be nothing short of a miracle, but a small part of him wanted to hold out, wanted to see if Mink would come by. But he couldn’t exactly explain that to his manager. 

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” Aoba said, keeping his voice light and happy. “But call me back in if it gets busy, okay?” _Or if a smoking hot babe pulls up_ , he thought.

His manager laughed, shooing him away. “Just make it home before it starts to rain.”

By the time Aoba made it out of the building, any light left was blocked out by dark clouds. He headed not for the train station, but along the path he’d directed Mink the night he’d driven Aoba home. There was a flicker of hope in Aoba’s chest that by an act of serendipity he’d manage to catch Mink this way. Assuming Mink was coming today at all.

Aoba liked to think that if he wanted it to happen hard enough, it would. 

Every passing car caught Aoba’s attention, his mind a constant peak and dip of expectations and disappointment. The excitement of oncoming headlights, the plummet of his heart when it was an unrecognizable car. By the time the first few raindrops hit his face, Aoba was regretting passing up the train.

He adjusted his bag on his shoulder, unzipping it to grab his umbrella. After ten seconds of rifling through rumpled receipts and gum wrappers, he had the sudden and terrible recollection of where his umbrella was. He could see it all too clearly in his mind’s eye, propped against the wall near the front door, placed there precisely so he wouldn’t forget it.

Except that was exactly what he’d done.

Zipping his bag closed, Aoba set off at a jog with a huff. Before long his bangs had become slicked to his forehead with rain, and he raised his hand to push them from his eyes. Mud spattered against his shoes as he ran, his sweater soon clinging to him as it soaked through. 

It was when lightning flashed and the road before him was illuminated that he saw the truck. Pulled to the side and with its headlights off, the hood popped and an open umbrella obscuring the figure that was inspecting it. Aoba stared three seconds too long, his averted gaze missing the oncoming trench. His yelp as he fell sounded between the time it took for the lightning to fade and the thunder to roar.

Aoba’s first concern was that he was pretty sure there was mud in his hair. His second was that his left ankle was not-so-delightfully numb when he tried to stand. He put weight on it, cautious at first, and found it gave out from beneath him after a single step. He attempted a second go with the same result.

The third time he went down, he stayed down.

Mentally recalling his bank account balance, Aoba debated if calling a cab was feasible. Being soaked as he was, he doubted any cabbie would willingly let him into the back seat. Maybe he could ring up Noiz or Clear and... what? Whine until they came out to help him hobble home? It wouldn’t be the biggest favor he’d ask them to do to date.

It was then that he noticed the lack of rain that was hitting him. Despite that it was now pouring, he was no longer the victim of its constant pelting. Aoba stared as a dark spot in the night and grit his teeth, already knowing who he’d see as he looked up, but not at all prepared to face them.


	7. Chapter 7

After a moment filled with the sound of nothing but rain and wind, Mink spoke.

“What are you doing down there?” he asked, his arm partially outstretched to hold his umbrella over Aoba.

“Being an idiot,” Aoba said.

“Your effort is impressive.”

“Yeah, well, I like to think I’m good at what I do. What’s your story?”

“Engine trouble again,” Mink admitted. He held his free hand out to Aoba then, offering him help up.

Not trusting his ankle, Aoba glanced away and pretended not to notice. 

“Are you going to sit here all night?” Mink asked.

“I’m taking a breather,” Aoba said. 

Mink crouched down, his sigh barely audible above the rain. “Why exactly are you here?”

“Work was dead,” Aoba said with a shrug. “Got off early, figured I’d stretch my legs.”

“No, I mean sitting here and catching your death.”

“Slipped a bit, no biggie.” 

“You can’t walk, can you?”

“I am perfectly capable of walking,” Aoba said haughtily. “In, like, five minutes.”

Mink was silent, and Aoba could feel himself being studied and picked apart by those gold eyes. His story was stupid to his own ears, and no doubt completely unbelievable to Mink’s. Anxiety crept under his skin as the seconds passed.

“Hold this,” Mink said, passing his umbrella to Aoba before standing.

He was gone in an instant, striding toward his truck and lowering the hood before going to the cab. Aoba watched Mink’s back as he rummaged in the truck, pulling back with a shoulder bag and closing the door. By the time he returned to Aoba’s side, the ends of his hair were already dark from rain.

“Let’s get you home,” Mink said, crouching again to slip an arm under Aoba’s knees, his other coming to brace against Aoba’s back.

“Wait─ wait, don’t,” Aoba said, voice half-breaking as he squirmed the second Mink attempted to lift him.

“Why?”

“I... you know I get free food at work, right?” Aoba asked, his exact fear eluding simpler words.

“And?”

“And I don’t exactly pass up free food ever. Even if it’s totally awful for my, uh, figure.”

Mink clucked his tongue. “Stop doubting my strength.”

“Look, I just don’t want you to throw your back out or something. Then we’d both be stuck out here.”

“I wouldn’t pick you up if I wasn’t capable of carrying you,” Mink said, showing no hesitation as he hefted Aoba up.

Aoba waited to be dropped, for his weight to be too much a burden for Mink. He counted the seconds. Five first, then fifteen. He clutched the umbrella in his hand tightly, holding it above himself and Mink while the moments passed. Mink didn’t drop him, didn’t show a hint of labored breath or exertion as he started to walk along the side of the road with Aoba cradled to his chest.

Half an hour later they were on the porch, Aoba’s teeth clenched to stop their chattering as Mink knocked on the door with the toe of his boot. There was a rustle from within followed by shuffling footsteps, and it was Noiz who opened the door. His expression went from passive to marginally less passive.

“Do I have to sign for this package?” Noiz asked as he stepped aside.

“Cram it,” Aoba huffed before turning his attention to Mink. “My room’s upstairs, so you can put me down.”

Mink didn’t put Aoba down, instead carrying him up the stairs one surefooted step at a time, a trail of water in his wake as he followed the further directions Aoba stuttered out. It was when he gently placed Aoba on his feet in the doorframe and flicked on the light that Aoba remembered he’d been meaning to clean his room. And for three weeks at that.

“I promise it’s not usually this bad,” Aoba lied as he placed a hand on the wall to hobble toward his dresser. On his bed, Ren’s eyes lit as he lifted his head.

“Aoba,” he said, both a greeting and a statement.

“Hey, Ren,” Aoba said as he began rooting through his drawers for fresh clothes. “This is Mink, he’s really great. And Mink, this is Ren, who’s also really great. So, you know, get along.”

“I have no doubt that we will,” Ren said as he looked to Mink. “It is a pleasure to become acquainted with you.”

“Similarly,” Mink said before glancing at Aoba. “Do you mind if I use your restroom to change?”

Aoba blinked owlishly in the middle of pulling a shirt from the top drawer. “Um, yeah that’s totally cool. Just give me a sec to find something for you.”

“No need,” Mink said as he patted his bag and heading for the open bathroom door.

Right. With the amount of traveling Mink did, that was likely an overnight bag.

Aoba let out a strained sigh he wasn’t aware he’d been holding in once the bathroom door shut. His gaze fell to his shoes, a murky puddle forming beneath them. With the blank numbness in his ankle quickly turning into a sharp, biting pain, he wasn’t looking forward to seeing what it looked like.

“Aoba, there seems to be an issue with your foot,” Ren said as he jumped off the bed, trotting to Aoba’s side.

“It’s a long story,” Aoba said. “Today’s been kind of shitty, and sure it’s getting a little less shitty, but I’m not really up to going into details. I just want things to be semi normal and to make a good impression on Mink, which I am kind of doing the opposite of right now.”

“Is there anything I can do to be of use to you?” Ren asked.

“Make me sound way cooler than I am while I’m in the shower.”

“Understood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When it comes to Aoba mentioning his weight, he is not being coy or exaggerating. I want fat Aoba so I am writing fat Aoba.


	8. Chapter 8

Aoba was waiting with an armful of fresh clothes when Mink emerged from the shower, the ends of his hair still damp. When Aoba went to move past him, step jagged and artless as his placed his weight on his good foot, Mink caught his wrist, his thumb moving over the veins that thudded hard with Aoba’s pulse. 

“Where’s the nearest inn?”

“Nearest inn?” Aoba asked. “Don’t tell me you’re going back out there in that weather.”

“Well I can’t make it home.”

“That’s not what I was saying. You’re totally free to stay here. It’s bad out and you’ve come this far already, plus after all you’ve done for me tonight, it’s the least I can offer.”

When hesitation showed on Mink’s face, Aoba swallowed the worst of his nerves as he pulling his wrist from Mink’s grip only to take his hand.

“Stay,” Aoba asked. “Please.”

“Take your shower,” was Mink’s response, and Aoba’s heart squeezed hard when Mink moved away from him.

Aoba spent his shower with one hand against the tiles to keep himself upright, his bad leg held not unlike a flamingo’s. The bruising was already atrocious, a landscape the same colors of a stormy sea. He worried about telling his job, and if he’d be able to keep it. He worried about the hardwood, and if the water would stain it. Most of all, he worried that Mink would be gone once he was finished. 

When Aoba returned to his room, his shirt oversized and his shorts tighter than he recalled them being last time he wore them, it was empty. He blotted the worst of the water from his hair and left his towel around his shoulders as he went into the hallway. He heard the soft noise of the TV downstairs, and the even softer noise of a conversation. The voices were equally deep, and Aoba’s nerves went hot with excitement as he hopped down the stairs.

On the living room couch he caught sight of the back of Mink’s head, a nature documentary playing on the TV before him.

“I’ve received a notification that your order will arrive within the next half hour,” came Ren’s voice, though he was hidden by the couch.

“Thank you," Mink said, looking over his shoulder as Aoba shuffled into the room.

“Ah, right. Dinner sounds good about now," Aoba laughed, recalling how empty their fridge was. “My treat, okay?"

“I’m paying," Mink said.

Aoba’s lips thinned. “You paid last time.”

“I’m paying again.”

“You paid last time,” Aoba repeated. “So this time I owe you.”

“I didn’t buy you dinner before so you’d be indebted to me.”

“Then why did you do it?”

Mink turned, his gaze serious and eyes rimmed by thin, gold-framed glasses. The words ‘hot’ and ‘librarian’ instantly sprang to Aoba’s mind, along with a few others he tried to ignore.

“It was a date,” Mink said flatly.

A sudden howl came from the kitchen.

“I called it,” came Noiz’s voice. “I so called it.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Aoba called back, slapping a hand to his face in embarrassment as he rested his hip against the couch. “Never mind Noiz.”

“And the one with the scarf?” Mink asked, his expression unfazed by Noiz’s interjection.

“Oh, that’s Clear. He’s a sweetheart, though a little shy around new people,” Aoba said. Shy was not the right term, but it was the best Aoba could explain.

Mink nodded, seeming to take Aoba‘s word. “How’s your ankle?”

“It’s basically fine. Or will be, I’m sure.”

“Let me look at it.”

Aoba waved a hand at Mink. “In a minute. I’ll put some coffee on for us, okay?”

Mink nodded, and Aoba waited for his gaze to return to the TV before limping his way to the kitchen. Noiz sat at the dining table with a beer stein full of sugary cereal, his grin kicking Aoba’s blood pressure up ten points when he saw it. His anger was only slightly offset as Clear looked up from the table, his scarf nearly up to his nose, a tube of glue in one hand and a rhinestone in the other.

“First of all,” Aoba said as he went for the cupboard, pulling from it ground coffee and a filter. “Shut up, Noiz.”

Noiz snorted, his grin slipping into a smirk as he shrugged.

“Secondly, you doing okay, Clear?” Aoba asked as he put the coffee on, limping to Clear’s side.

“I’m perfect,” Clear said, voice muffled by his scarf.

“You know, Mink’s really nice,” Aoba said, his hand resting on Clear’s back. “Do you want to meet him?”

“Well, yes, I would love to meet him,” Clear said earnestly, his voice wavering at the end as his eyes met Aoba’s. “But you know it’s not that easy.”

Aoba watched as Clear set his work down to adjust his scarf, his fingers skimming over the two small marks beneath his lip that crowded his thoughts when faced with new people. It was something Aoba had taken as a quirk at first, a simple worry before he’d moved in with Clear. Now he knew it to be a greater issue, one he couldn’t force Clear past.

“It’s okay,” Aoba said softly. “He already knows about you kinda. I talked about you when he helped me pick out your dream catcher. But still, if you’re not up for it I can take him back to my room so you’re not trapped here.”

“No, no,” Clear said quickly. “I don’t mean to trouble you like that. What I want is for you to enjoy your date.”

“And it is totally a date this time,” Noiz added, pointing his spoon at Aoba.

Aoba shot Noiz a dark look before ruffling Clear’s hair and taking two clean mugs from the dishwasher.

“Milk or sugar?” Aoba called to the living room as he poured the cups of coffee.

“Both, please,” Mink called back.

“How domestic,” Noiz said, paying no heed as Clear reached over to adjust a crooked piercing. “Real talk, though. Your leg is all kinds of not working, and I can’t imagine you like walking on it. Not to mention I have a smorgasbord of old pain meds in the cupboard. Treat yourself.”

If it weren’t for the pained sweat that was beading on Aoba’s brow, he’d have turned Noiz down. The idea of going through Noiz’s many bottles of half-used medications he’d collected through his various accidents was hardly wise, but now, with his breath catching each time he put pressure on his bad foot and the pain becoming dizzying, the offer was a Godsend. 

He opened the vitamin cupboard to find it stocked with supplements and orange prescription bottles, rifling through them and checking their expiration dates. Reading the names out to Noiz, he listened as Noiz rattled off the uses and side effects of each one. Aoba settled on one that had too syllables in its name, one that Noiz had declared to be ‘the good stuff.’ Aoba gulped down a rounded pill with a sip of water before fixing up his and Mink’s coffee and slowly making his way back to the living room.

“Let’s see that leg,” Mink said as he patted his hand once on the couch. 

Aoba set the mugs on the coffee table before heading Mink’s words, wincing as Mink brought his leg up to rest in his lap.

“It looks terrible,” Mink stated flatly.

“It always looks worse at first, I’m sure it’ll be─” Aoba started, his words faltering as Mink reached into his bag and pulled from it a small container and a roll of bandage. “Really, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” Mink said, glancing up to meet Aoba’s gaze, challenging him to argue. 

Aoba didn’t.

Instead he sat as still as possible, biting back whimpers and choked hisses as a salve was applied to the worst of the bruising. He tried to concentrate on the scent instead of the pain, a floral musk that was heady and rich. He concentrated on Mink’s touch as well, how his fingertips were gentle as they moved over blooms of blue and purple. Aoba’s heart beat in his ears louder than the rain on the roof, and he wasn’t sure if it was over too soon or hadn’t gone on long enough once Mink wrapped his ankle.

“The salve won’t fix it, but it will help the pain,” Mink said as he sat back.

Aoba smiled slow and easy, the hot anxiety that had been prickling under his skin dulling to a slow burn. God, Noiz was right when he said those pills were the good stuff. Aoba rolled his shoulders and gave a contented sigh, his head cocking as he looked to Mink.

“With all the effort you put it, you may as well kiss it better,” Aoba said before he could stop himself. The warm, comfortable feeling that had been spreading through his veins was quickly eating away at his mind-to-mouth filter.

Mink let out a bark of a laugh, short and deep, a hint of teeth showing. “If that’s what you want.”

Aoba’s eyes widened, his filter once again not quick to enough to catch his words. “Hmm, I don’t know if that would be best though. Ever heard of trickle-down?”

“Excuse me?”

“Kiss here,” Aoba said, tapping his own lips.

That was definitely not how trickle-down worked, and Mink’s expression said he was entirely aware of that. It didn’t stop him from raising a hand, palm softer than Aoba expected as it cupped his cheek, drawing him in until their lips brushed. Aoba gasped soft as he brought a hand up to catch on Mink’s forearm, nails biting lightly into the olive skin as their breath mingled. 

And then he promptly, though very accidentally, just about clawed Mink’s arm in shock as a knock came at the door.

“Your food order has arrived,” Ren said, and Aoba’s stomach curdled with embarrassment as he recalled Ren’s presence.

Right, they were hardly alone.


	9. Chapter 9

“I’ll get the door,” Mink said as he pulled away from Aoba. There were raw red marks on his arm from where he’d been scratched as their kiss was interrupted. But if it hurt, he didn’t show it. 

Aoba was still stewing in his panicked embarrassment when Mink returned to the couch, setting plastic bags of packaged food on the table.

“Shit, I’m sorry about your arm,” Aoba started.

“If it was an issue, I would have told you,” Mink said, popping the lid on one of the cartons and handing it to Aoba. 

With a quiet and sheepish word of thanks, Aoba sat back against the couch with his food. His body went stiff as Mink sat beside him, their sides brushing as he settled in.

“Ren told me this was your favorite,” Mink said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Well, he was right,” Aoba said. “I try not to get it too often, it just goes right to my thighs.”

“Again, not something I consider an issue.”

Mink said it was such ease, such a calm and confident voice, that Aoba found himself unable to reject his words. All he could do was quietly resign himself to his meal, his knee knocking on occasion against Mink’s. The pleasant sweeping serenity of the medication growing stronger, and soon he found his eyes half-closed with contentment, his stomach full as he listed to the side until his head came to rest on Mink’s shoulder. 

When Aoba’s attention next focused, the movie was over. Not only over, but the TV was gone, replaced instead by... what? The image before Aoba’s eyes was moving, and he was slow to realize that it was because he too was moving. Held against a sturdy chest, he was being carried up the stairs once more. It dredged up fuzzy childhood memories of being small and tired, nodding off on long car trips and having to be put to bed. He liked it.

Aoba sighed as Mink laid him down on the bed, reaching out blindly in the dark to grab hold of Mink’s shirt as he pulled back to leave.

“Get in,” Aoba said around a yawn.

“Aoba,” Mink said seriously.

“Shh, no arguing,” Aoba said. “You’re cool. Way cool. I feel like I should ask you to prom or somethin’.”

Mink froze. “Aoba, how old are you?”

Aoba let out a short, loopy laugh. “Too old to actually go to prom.”

He felt Mink physically relax.

“And exactly how old is my tall, dark and handsome friend?” Aoba couldn’t help but ask.

“Old enough to be a chaperone at your prom, I’d hazard,” Mink said.

“Well, I’ve always liked them older,” Aoba admitted, wholly too drowsy to pretend to be shy.

Using the last of his strength, Aoba tugged Mink onto his bed. It was a tight fit, but it gave Aoba all the more reason to cuddle in close to Mink, head resting on Mink’s chest and his bad leg hiked over Mink’s hip. He shivered as a roll of thunder rattled the window pane, putting up only the barest fuss as Mink worked to pull the covers over the both of them.

“Goodnight kiss?” Aoba asked once Mink had settled down.

“Is that you or the pain meds talking?” 

Aoba squinted in the dark, his fingers lazily curling in Mink’s shirt.

“Both,” Aoba said confidently. 

Again Mink’s palm cupped his cheek, and again their lips met. It was slower this time, more familiar. They breathed each other in, learned the softness of one another’s mouths. Their hands moved beneath the sheets, slipping under shirts, brushing against skin and over hips. Aoba arched when Mink gripped the fullness of his thigh, gasping in surprise against Mink’s lips.

In the other room, Noiz let out a sharp, loud laugh, and Aoba cringed at the sound. Right, he had roommates to worry about. Roommates that, if they knew what was happening, would never let him live it down. Or at least Noiz wouldn’t. It was all Aoba could do to pull away with a huff, already missing the taste of Mink as they parted. He slid his hand to rest over Mink’s, not yet willing to let that go.

His veins filled with heat and hormones, the rain whipping against the pane outside, Aoba drifted off in Mink’s hold, hardly aware of the pain in his leg. 

\---

Embarrassment hit Aoba like a hangover the next morning when he woke to an empty bed, the space beside him already cold. He sat up in a hurry, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. The pain that shot through his entire body the second he tried to stand woke him up more immediately than any coffee, the curses that left his mouth stronger than any bodybuilder.

“Good morning, Aoba,” Ren said promptly, lifting his head as his ears radared toward Aoba.

“Morning,” Aoba said weakly. “Mink still around?”

“He left this morning with the intention of fixing his truck, but gave his regards.”

A pang of something Aoba couldn’t quite identify shot through his heart, and it was with a heaviness in his bones as he stood. He took a deep breath in and waited for the pain in his ankle to fade. Four breaths later, it was still there, stark and bright as it had been since he first stepped on it. He rolled his lower lip beneath his teeth as he looked down at Ren.

“Do I work today?”

Ren’s head tilted to the side as he processed Aoba’s question. “You are off until this Tuesday.”

“Well, that’s one good thing,” Aoba said, sitting back down. “I guess I’ll have to stay off this until then.”

“That would be wisest,” Ren said as he padded over to Aoba’s lap.

Aoba ran a hand through Ren’s fur and let his gaze lose focus. He wanted to tell Ren about Mink, but didn’t know where to start. So he told Ren everything.


	10. Chapter 10

Tuesday came, and Aoba didn’t go into work. He had every intention, but intentions were nothing in the face of his still-injured ankle. Most of his time he invested in ignoring it, which was hard to do with Clear and Noiz asking to see it on a near hourly basis. Clear at least held true concern for its state, while Noiz did nothing but utter ‘nice’ and ‘dude, it looks like a boob’ upon seeing the shape of a particularly large bruise.

It only looked a _little_ like a boob, Aoba assured himself as he downed another bowl of soup. It was one of the many home remedies Clear found on the internet that he hoped would work. Aoba rated it as barely more effective than the one that required Clear balancing various crystals on the injury site. Noiz had turned that one into a game of jenga by the end of the day.

By Wednesday, Aoba had started to seriously consider seeing a doctor. Less for his own good, and more because no matter how cool his boss was, management still required a doctor’s note for absences beyond three days. Aoba was flopped on the couch in the middle of figuring out the route of public transport to the hospital when the knock at the door came.

He looked up, not quite able to see past Noiz as he opened the door. 

“Come back later, I’m expecting the pizza guy,” Noiz said, closing the door before the person on the other side could speak.

They knocked again. Noiz didn’t answer.

“Come in,” Aoba called. “It’s unlocked.”

Aoba immediately recognized the person who entered to be Mink, and a smile came unbidden to his face.

“They said you were off at work when I went to see you,” Mink explained.

It was then that Aoba spotted the bouquet of wildflowers in Mink’s hand, and it was all he could do to smother a round of unattractive sputters as they were handed over. They smelled fresh and light, a dusting of pollen still spread over their petals. Aoba couldn’t recall half of their names, but he didn’t need to know them to see how lovely they were. 

“Ah, thanks,” Aoba said brightly, patting the spot on the couch next to him, his heart skipping twice when Mink sat.

“I trust you’ve been seen by a doctor already,” Mink said, his tone implying the opposite.

“Oh, yeah. Totally. They said they’re probably not going to have to amputate it, but we have to keep up with the goat sacrifices,” Noiz said, arms folded over his chest as he peered outside the window.

Mink pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me see it, Aoba.”

Aoba clucked his tongue apologetically. “Sorry, it’s... timid.”

Mink opened his mouth to speak again when the air was punctuated by the doorbell ringing. Noiz was quick to answer, wallet in hand as money was exchanged for greasy pizza. He popped the lid as he closed the door with his foot, fishing a slice out and chomping down on it. He stared thoughtfully at Aoba and Mink.

“I bet if I grabbed his legs, and you grabbed his arms, we could carry him to the hospital,” Noiz said.

“Do not even start,” Aoba hissed.

“Clear put a bunch of rocks on him and made him eat six bowls of beet soup,” Noiz went on. “I’m actually surprised it didn’t kill him. And sometimes when he flexes, the bruise looks like it’s dancing.”

“Oh my God,” Aoba groaned, hiding his face in the flowers. 

“An interesting observation,” Mink said, gently pushing aside the bouquet. “But I’m sure we don’t need to drag Aoba bodily to have his ankle looked at.”

“It’s fine, it’s really fine,” Aoba insisted.

He was met with two stern stares, and at last he knew there was no escaping this.

“Ugh, alright," he finally relented. I’ll get it checked out. Just don’t make a fuss, okay?”

Mink made it a fuss, mostly because in place of his truck he’d brought a too-loud motorcycle. Its one saving grace was that there was no room for Noiz or Clear, the both of them forced to stay home in the meantime. Aoba spent the trip with his fingers woven into Mink’s jacket, knuckles white and breath shallow as they sped along the streets.

It took an hour for them to be seen, most of their waiting room time spent with Aoba staring at his knees, thoroughly aware of how many sets of eyes were on him after Mink had carried him in. Not that he didn’t like it, but the attention that came with it was something he could do without. Mink seemed unaware, or at least uninterested, in the many nurses that eyed him as well.

When it came time for the nurse’s consultation, Mink was still at his side, awkward and large in the small, washed out room. He added no details to Aoba’s story, his gaze far away but his head tilted to listen as Aoba spoke the finer details of the situation as the nurse took his temperature and blood pressure.

“Well, it seems to me you’ve got a real catch of a boyfriend,” the nurse said sweetly as she wrote down Aoba’s details. “You sit tight and we’ll see about getting an X-ray for that leg, okay?”

Aoba nodded dumbly and watched her leave. Mink did nothing.

“She called you my boyfriend,” Aoba said, half stunned and half scandalized.

“She did,” Mink agreed.

Aoba waited for Mink to deny it, to laugh and say what a silly misunderstanding it was, but he didn’t. The minutes passed, footsteps and short conversations drifting past the door, and still Mink remained silent. In his head, Aoba replayed each meeting he’d had with Mink so far. From the flubbed order to the fair encounter, from the free food and the ride home to their meeting in the rain. From being toted to bed and sent to sleep with a goodnight kiss, and now being carried to the emergency room.

Holy shit.

“You _are_ my boyfriend,” Aoba realized out loud.


	11. Chapter 11

Mink’s serious expression broke as he raised a hand to muffle his short, deep laugh at Aoba’s realization that they were a couple. 

“I wasn’t sure of when to broach the subject,” he said.

Aoba rubbed the back of his neck as his cheeks flushed hotly. It was true, there hadn’t been a clear line where he knew entirely that they were in a relationship short of asking directly. But the nurse had decided it for them, or at least brought it to the surface.

Aoba’s cheeks were still warm by the time he was through with his X-rays, his heart beating painfully hard as his ankle was set in a cast and crutches handed to him. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry. He wanted a Facebook account solely for the purpose of being able to change his status to ‘in a relationship.’

Instead he texted Clear and Noiz as he waited for his pain prescriptions to be filled.

“Congratulations !! (*^▽^*)” Clear texted back.

“are you telling me he wasn’t already your boyfriend when he first showed up” Noiz said.

The ride home was markedly more difficult than the ride to, Aoba’s new crutches pinned between his chest and Mink’s back, his arms wound tight around Mink’s waist as they sped along streets that shone with rainwater. Mink helped Aoba to the door, pausing under the porch awning to unwind the windchime that had become tangled from the earlier storm. 

He didn’t follow Aoba into the house.

“Something wrong?” Aoba asked as he paused in the doorway, his hands adjusting their grip on his crutches.

Mink sighed like a tired dog. 

“I can’t stay,” Mink admitted.

“Of course you can,” Aoba said. “Noiz and Clear won’t mind.”

“I have parts I need to pick up for my truck,” Mink said.

Aoba blinked. “Oh, that’s... that makes sense. Well, uh. Thank you for your help, as always.”

“Be sure to take your medications,” Mink said as he handed the pharmacy bag over. 

“Only if you let me know when you get home safe,” Aoba teased, leaning in to peck at Mink’s lips.

He gasped in soft surprise as Mink’s hand came up to cup the nape of his neck, keeping him still as the kiss was deepened. Aoba supported himself heavily on his crutches as Mink’s tongue slipped against his, panting weakly as his pulse surged and his blood heated. It was nice, the way Mink kissed him. Slow and thoughtful with a growing need.

A whine escaped Aoba when Mink pulled away, a thin strand of saliva snapping between them.

“I’ll let you know when I’m home,” Mink promised.

Aoba didn’t trust himself to walk, even with his crutches, until the rumble of Mink’s motorcycle was a distant sound he wasn’t even sure he was hearing.

\---

Six hours of solitaire and Netflix marathoning later, Aoba wondered if he should have gone out to dinner with Noiz and Clear. But after trying to sit up only to have the world spin twice, he decided he’d made the right decision to stay behind. There had been a warning label on his medication not to operate heavy machinery, and Aoba was sure his body counted as such with how his head was swimming.

At least his ankle didn’t hurt anymore. He scrubbed a hand against his face as he looked down to check that it still existed. He’d lost all feeling in it, and a majority of his body, some time ago. Now the injury was nothing more than a blank spot in his mind, a colorful cast with no less than three dicks and two jellyfish drawn on it. Noiz had also forged Michael Jordan’s signature. Clear added several rhinestones and had been dangerously close to topping them off with glitter before Ren talked him down.

The house was still quiet when Aoba’s coil rang, and he answered it with a groggy ‘hello’ that was half smothered by a yawn.

“I’m home,” Mink said.

“Didn’t hit any deer?” Aoba asked.

“Or owls,” Mink confirmed. 

Aoba chuckled as he rolled onto his back, his free hand brushing between Ren’s ears and putting him in sleep mode before setting him aside. Aoba paused for a moment to listen to Mink’s end of the line, the quietness of his breath, the click of a lock being undone as he no doubt entered his house.

“I miss you,” Aoba said.

“Is that so?” Mink asked.

“Mmhmm, totally so. I miss you so much I could... I could...”

“You could what?”

“Kiss you,” Aoba said, letting his eyes close as he smiled to himself. This was a good combination he had going on, Mink and painkillers. The latter made his anxiety less rooted in regards to the former. His usual unease was pleasantly nebulous.

“That’s it?”

“Of course that’s not it,” Aoba huffed, listening as Mink took his shoes off. “I’d kiss you, and then I’d maybe undo a button or two on that lumberjack flannel you like so much.”

“So does that mean you don’t like it?” Mink teased.

“I-I never said that. Jeez, I thought maybe you’d be a little more open to this,” Aoba huffed.

“Open to what?”

Aoba pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Of course Mink was going to be coy about this.

“Well, you know. Talking on the phone about this sort of stuff,” Aoba mumbled.

“What sort of ‘stuff?’”

“Stuff we could be doing if you weren’t so far away.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line before Aoba heard a breathy noise that was suspiciously close to a laugh.

“Alright, go on,” Mink said. “What would we be doing?”

“Um, okay. Like I said, I’d kiss you. And like, take your shirt off...” Aoba repeated. The words came out higher than he wanted them too, awkward and fumbling to his own ears. “Then I’d, y’know. I’d...”

“You’d?” Mink supplied unhelpfully.

“Is this too weird?” Aoba asked, suddenly self-conscious. “Because it feels weird.”

“I would consider it less weird and more of an ego stroke,” Mink said. “But if you’re uncomfortable saying what you want to do to me, tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Aoba’s heart gave a staggering sort of lurch up into his throat at the bluntness of Mink’s comment. Despite directness being a quality Aoba admired in Mink, to mirror it himself was something he’d never considered. But now that it was planted in his mind, his blood beginning to simmer and his hand playing with the hem of his shirt, it didn’t seem like a half bad idea. Not that he was sure how to execute it.

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” Aoba admitted sheepishly.

“That means you can start anywhere.”

Aoba sighed and worried his lip, one hand struggling to undo his coil and lay it beside his head. He found his own hands curiously moving over his clothes as he listened to Mink settling down.

“Well, I guess I’d want you to touch me.”

“Where?” Mink prompted. 

“Do I really have to say?” Aoba said, his cheeks warm.

“If you tell me, then I’ll know where to touch you next time I see you.”

Whatever Aoba had been about to say next left him mind, all thoughts replaced with a static shiver. Was is possible to be so smooth in so few words? Aoba was halfway impressed, and wholly overwhelmed. 

“I want you to touch me wherever,” Aoba said, dipping his hand beneath his shirt, skirting his nail along the soft skin of his stomach. “Like, not on top of my clothes...”

“Go on,” Mink prompted. 

Aoba sighed as he closed his eyes, one hand continuing to move beneath his shirt while the other sunk beneath the elastic band of his sleeping shorts. He tried to think of his own hands as Mink’s, devoting himself to a fantasy where instead of being many miles away, Mink was with him.

“I don’t know what else to tell you,” Aoba said, half exasperated, his body arching into his own touch. “I just need you to touch me, anywhere you want. And kisses. You definitely haven’t given me enough of those.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mink said.

“You better,” Aoba responded. When he tried to speak again, his words were cut short by his own hand as he palmed the outline of his cock.

His breath was a shuddering in and out as he continued to touch himself, the beat of his own heart nearly deafening in his ears. On the other end of the line he could make out Mink’s own breath, not entirely as even as it had been earlier. 

“Could I touch you too?” Aoba asked.

“Of course,” Mink answered. 

A moan caught in the back of Aoba’s throat at that, his fingers wrapping around his stiffening cock, pumping slowly as warmth spread through his body. He wanted more than anything to express what he desired, to say just where he needed Mink’s hands and lips and tongue. How he needed to feel Mink against him, the solidness of his body. The dizzying scent of his skin.

The pretense of trying to make the moment last began to fade as Aoba continued to stroke himself, less attuned to the soft noises that left his lips as he listened to Mink’s breathing on the other end of the line. It was rough and low with the occasional hitch, letting Aoba know he wasn’t alone in his pleasure. 

Aoba could nearly convince himself that it truly was Mink’s hand on him. It made it easier to lose himself to the sensations, his pulse almost sickeningly fast as his muscles tensed, his hips bucking to meet the pace of his palm. There was a spasm of warmth in his stomach as his back hollowed, precum dripping from the slit of his cock as he neared climax.

“A-ah, Mink,” Aoba gasped. “I─ _fuck_.”

He was orgasming, and much too early at that. Embarrassingly early. Cum spilled over his hand as his body stilled, one last heady rush flooding his body that left him with a great shudder. Instead of lazing in the warm afterglow of his act, Aoba became immediately aware of the sweat that had beaded on his skin and stuck him to the sheets. That, and the fact he’d had what was probably the least sexy phone sex that anyone could have.

“That... was supposed to last longer,” Aoba mumbled, sitting up in bed as he reached for the tissue box on his nightstand. 

Mink’s laughter sounded over the speaker, a deep and amused thrum. “We can try again later.”

“Oh,” Aoba said, pausing as he cleaned himself. “We can try again...”

“Unless you’d rather we not,” Mink offered.

“No! I... no, that’s not it. I do want to try it again,” Aoba said quickly. “I didn’t realize this could be an ongoing thing, is all.”

“I look forward to it,” Mink said, “but for now, you should get some rest.”

“Same to you,” Aoba said, glancing at the clock and noticing the late hour. “See you soon?”

“Soon,” Mink echoed.


	12. Chapter 12

Aoba was sitting on the couch with a duffel bag brimming with clothes when the knock came at the door. His muscles tensed with the urge to spring up, but his ankle refused to follow suit. He was left to grip at the armrest, slowly pulling himself up until Noiz called him off with a wave of his hand.

“Let’s make him wait,” Noiz said.

“I’m not making Mink wait,” Aoba said. “You can’t just lock my boyfriend out.”

“I’ve locked my own boyfriend out,” Noiz mentioned.

“That’s true,” Clear said with a sage and knowing nod as he went to the door. “You’re very good at locking out boyfriends.” 

“I’m starting to think I should get some sort of award, a plaque or something,” Noiz said.

Aoba squinted at Noiz, but decided against mentioning the spare key he’d hidden under a rock in the yard. He didn’t wholly trust Noiz not to lock him out one day. Maybe he’d lock Noiz out instead and beat him to the punch.

“Let’s not lock anyone out for now,” Clear said sweetly before he opened the door. “Please, come in.”

Aoba found himself struggling to his feet at last as Mink entered, exchanging quick pleasantries with Clear before turning to see Aoba. The space between them was closed in three strides only for Mink to pause in front of Aoba, looking stiff and unsure for the first time since they met. Aoba watched his eyes flick back and forth, first in the direction of Noiz, then Clear.

Ah.

“It’s fine,” Aoba said, slipping his arms around Mink’s waist to hug him close. “You don’t have to be embarrassed in front of them.”

The tension didn’t entirely leave Mink’s body, but Aoba could feel it ebbing in the way Aoba leaned into his touch, returning the hug with gentility that betrayed his intimidating appearance. Aoba brushed a hand over Mink’s back in a smooth motion, coming to rest at the lower curve of it.

Aoba hugged Mink until the embarrassment started to creep into his own mind. Noiz and Clear hadn’t left, and Aoba wondered if this was what pet owners with animals that stared too long experienced. He cleared his throat as he pulled back, smiling up at Mink and receiving the same in turn. 

“We can stay here for a bit if you’d like,” Aoba said. “I’m sure the drive is kinda tiring for you.”

“I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee,” Mink admitted. 

“Let me help,” Clear offered, following Aoba into the kitchen.

Aoba bustled about the kitchen as he prepared a pot of coffee, noticing from the corner of his eye as Clear put together a plate of sweets. Aoba wasn’t entirely sure what they were meant to be, but they did vaguely resemble a recipe clipping from Martha Stewart magazine that had been on the fridge for two weeks.

When Aoba returned with a tray of four coffee cups and Clear trailing in his wake, he found Mink and Noiz seated across from one another on the two mismatched sofas that flanked the coffee table. The atmosphere was decidedly more tense than they had left it.

“So, how’s everything in here?” Aoba asked, setting the tray down and taking a seat behind Mink.

“Fine,” Mink said.

“He’s trying to tell me he’s not a lumberjack,” Noiz said, leaning back and folding his arms over his chest.

Aoba glanced at Mink, spotting the usual flannel he tended to wear. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, exposing strong forearms that Aoba took a second to appreciate.

“Are you a lumberjack?” Aoba asked, suddenly unsure.

“You’ve seen me working before,” Mink said.

“Well I don’t know, maybe you moonlight or something,” Aoba said.

“I am not a lumberjack,” Mink clarified, and behind his serious tone Aoba caught the slightest flash of a smile.

With the matter officially settled, Aoba was more than happy to take one of the treats Clear had made, eating it in lieu of making small talk. He glanced between Noiz and Clear.

Clear had a way of sitting that gave off a distinctively housewifey vibe. His body was angled towards Noiz, his knees together, hands clasped with interest in his lap. Noiz had a less PTA member appearance, lax against the couch cushions, his hand draped over the back of it as he put his arm around Clear without the full commitment. 

God, they looked lowkey married.

“Okay, assuming I believe for even a second you’re not a lumberjack, how are you going to protect Aoba?” Noiz asked.

“Protect me? From what?” Aoba interjected.

“I’ve seen Bear Grylls. I know what happens out in the woods,” Noiz said.

“I don’t think it’s an unnatural concern,” Clear added.

The realization of what was happening was sudden─ and more than that, horribly embarrassing. 

“Are you giving Mink a shotgun talk?” Aoba asked, absolutely mortified. 

Clear glanced away like he always did when he was caught doing something sneaky. Noiz’s expression was markedly less ashamed.

“Look,” Mink said, one arm raising to settle over Aoba’s shoulders. “Aoba won’t come to harm when he’s with me. And even without me, I’m sure he can take care of himself.”

The words didn’t go in one of Noiz’s ear and out the other. They didn’t even reach him.

“He’s deathly allergic to milk,” Noiz said. “You better know how to use an epipen.”

“I’m not allergic to milk, it’s just totally gross.”

“It’s gross if you like having strong bones,” Noiz said.

Aoba eyebrows knit together so tightly he was afraid they’re make a scarf if this continued to go on.

“If you stop talking right now, you can have all my pizza rolls in the freezer,” Aoba said.

Noiz’s silence was immediate and lasting, and while drinking coffee with no small talk was awkward, whatever else Noiz had planned to say would have been even more so. Plus it gave Aoba time to cobble together the script for an apology once they got into the truck. He ran through it several times before they left.

Clear and Noiz saw them off with a short goodbye, watching from the porch. They looked doubly married now.

“About Noiz,” Aoba started as he buckled himself in. “I’m sorry for his... everything, basically.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Mink said. 

“He was kind of out of line, though.”

“He was fine,” Mink assured, pulling out onto the main road. “I trust that any person you consider a friend is someone of good standing.”

“I think your faith in me might be a little misplaced, but... thanks,” Aoba said.

The drive to Mink’s home was long and winding, and three times they had to pull over when motion sickness nearly became too much for Aoba. Twice his phone went off, once when Clear told him to enjoy himself, and again when Noiz texted him a photo. It took a lot of staring to figure out that it was an entire cookie sheet of pizza rolls, all of which had all melted into a single, horrible mess.

Aoba’s reception cut out not long after that, leaving his to gaze out the window as the trees became thicker, the road narrower as the houses became far and few in between. There were times when he’d glance at the rear view mirror to find Mink looking back, eyes calm but interested as he locked gazes. Aoba couldn’t suppress the smile that curved his lips each time, his cheeks tinting pink as he looked away.

The sunlight was fast dwindling when they reached the old cabin Mink called home. The air was crisper here, cleaning. There was no white noise of traffic and pedestrians, only sharp birdsong and the occasional rustle of branches. It was also a lot colder than Aoba had dressed for. 

“Sheesh, you should have told me you lived at ice station zebra,” Aoba teased, sliding out of the truck and taking his crutches. “Please tell me you’re not so far out in the boonies you don’t have a heater.”

“I don’t have a heater, but I think you’ll live,” Mink said. Aoba’s groan was drown out by the closing of the truck door, and he stamped his crutches into the ground in mock irritation as Mink carried his bag to the front door.

Mink’s cabin was exactly the well-built, no nonsense affair Aoba had imagined it to be. Not that is was devoid of personality. A woven tapestry hung on the wall of the living room, a rug spread across the hardwood floor. The sight of the fireplace brought an immediate relief to Aoba.

“How do you like it?” Mink asked, setting Aoba’s bag down. “Is it to your tastes?”

“I like it,” Aoba said. “I mean, it could use a bear skin rug, or maybe a mounted deer head, but still.”

“I’ll see if I can’t meet those requirements next time you stay.”

Aoba laughed lightly as he set his crutches against the arm of the couch and took a seat on an overstuffed couch in front of the fireplace. He watched with fondness as Mink crouched down, stacking logs in the hearth and starting a fire. Mink watched the flames until they caught, standing when he was satisfied they’d continue.

“It really is nice here,” Aoba said. “It’s sort of exactly the kind of place I would expect you to have.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Yeah, well more than that, I like you,” Aoba said. “So even if you don’t have any animal parts hanging around, I won’t dock you.”

Mink turned around at that, showing Aoba a small and assured smile as he came to sit on the couch. He was less reserved about touching Aoba this time, slipping his arm around Aoba’s waist without pause. 

“To think I could end up with someone so forgiving,” Mink said, kissing the side of Aoba’s head. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Showed up at work when I wasn’t even trying to pay attention? Then turned out to be not only be nice, but attractive?”

Mink laughed low in his throat, the sound warming Aoba along with the fire. The sound went beneath Aoba’s skin, made his nerves prickle and blood rush before it settled into his bones. Despite the fact that they were doing nothing, it was more than Aoba could have ever asked for. Being with Mink like this, alone and with no one to intrude, left him pleasantly excited and nervous.

But he wasn’t sure what to do next.

Aoba let himself lean into Mink as the fire crackled, listening to the soft in and out of Mink’s breath. When Mink had invited Aoba to spend the weekend with him, it had been casual, an offhand suggestion that Aoba had been quick to jump on. There had been no plan as to how to spend their time together.

Maybe there didn’t need to be a plan.

“Mink?” Aoba asked.

“Yes?”

Aoba shifted. “Can we kiss?”

“I wouldn’t be averse to that,” Mink said.

Of course Mink would give such an obtuse answer.

With a roll of his eyes, Aoba leaned in for a kiss. In his mind, he was aiming for Mink’s cheek. In reality, his lips brushed over Mink’s jaw. Not that Mink seemed to mind, especially when Aoba left a second and third kiss. By the time Aoba was on his fifth kiss, he’d moved from Mink’s jaw and was trailing down his neck, Mink’s relaxed sigh encouraging.

“Aoba?” Mink asked after a moment, voice breathier than it had been before. 

“Yeah?”

“About those phone calls from before,” Mink said, trailing off.

Aoba frowned as he pulled back. “Phone calls? Which ones?”

“A few of them,” Mink prompted. His hand moved up from Aoba’s waist to rub between his shoulder blades.

Aoba leaned back into Mink’s touch as he let his gaze cast up to the ceiling. He thought back to their calls and what they contained. Most of them were simply recountings of their days and talks of future plans. Of coffee dates or errands needing to be run in town, or how Aoba’s leg was doing. But when Mink’s fingers moved to graze over the nape of Aoba’s neck, he knew exactly what Mink had in mind.

“What about them?” Aoba asked, sounding a lot less coy than he wanted to.

“Is that what you still want?”

Aoba’s heart skipped in a way that was both perfect and painful, and he found his confidence emboldened, his lips turning up in a smile. For so long his thoughts of romance had been a straightforward formula. A date, then another. Dinner, movies, an awkward kiss.

With Mink, it was different.

A wrong order, a craft fair, a broken leg. They’d all come together to lead to this, a quiet weekend away from it all with someone who cared for him, and who he cared for. It wasn’t a coming of age tale, a story worthy of a screenplay, and it wasn’t what Aoba had ever expected for himself. Yet he wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

Happy, secure, and becoming more confident.

“Well,” Aoba finally said, focusing now on the present─ and more importantly, what was to come. “I wouldn’t be averse to it.”


End file.
